Who Is He?

Updated on July 29, 2014

1961 | Source

Day after Thanksgiving 2009 | Source

Who is He?

He was small and sort of roly-poly. He had a chubby face full of innocence. In the mind’s eye of a child, the innocence could easily be mistaken for vulnerability. And it was. That vulnerability was taken advantage of – often. He was blamed (and punished) for things he didn’t do. He was bribed to cover up for someone else’s wrongdoings. He took it and never complained. It was easy – he was so easily manipulated! He was ridiculed in front of his friends. He was in the way. So, instead of pushing him out, he was pushed about!

Somewhere between denying mom’s outstretched hand and having to reach out for it, he grew up. He grew tall and lean, but muscular. His voice lowered about three octaves. And the look of innocence wasn’t innocence at all. Oh, it was still there, but somehow, it was no longer vulnerability. It was compassion and love. He was no longer weak. He was strong, yet gentle. He was someone whom I’d never allowed myself to know until I reached a valley in my new venture into adulthood.

He was there to pick me up. (Why?) He was there to give me strength – but just enough to nurture my own strength. His belief in me sprouted my own belief in me. His friendship forced me to see the beauty in other people and, more vitally, in myself. His love overcame my negativity. His whole, beautiful being sparked my growth. And I grow and grow and grow. I no longer struggle through my self-created darkness. I shine!